More Than a Doorway Conversation
by earlybirdd
Summary: Continuation from 3x16. Hook would do anything to get Emma to stay, he just doesn't know what. Rated M for language. One-shot.


"Thanks for taking him."

Her voice is soft and she maintains the distance between them. Maybe it's the fact that Henry is in the next room undoubtedly eavesdropping, but Hook senses discomfort in her stance, like she's protecting something she's scared he'll uncover. Typical Swan.

He doesn't know why but he feels closer to her after spending the day with Henry, not to mention closer to the boy himself. At one point, he couldn't help but see himself reflected in Henry a little. And so it's this angle that propels him forward with his next line of questioning.

His eyes flicker to hers, "There's more pain in your boy than you realise. He needs to know about his father, Emma."

He pauses. Because yes, Henry needs to know about his father, but fuck, maybe he needs something too. Maybe for this one instant he can revert back to being his former selfish prick of a pirate self and get something he needs for once. His life for the last year has been about standing in Emma Swan's doorway and just when he thinks he's breaking it down, she locks him out again, more alone than he was before.

"You can't just take him back to New York when this is over and pretend like none of this is real…" his voice lingers on the word _real_ and he hopes she gets the inflection. Thinly veiled pain seeps through his voice and Emma takes another step back into the doorframe, apparently not in the mood to pander to him.

"Thanks again" She's avoiding his eyes, shutting down the thought of staying immediately. Was being here - being with him - so unbearable for her, she couldn't even entertain the notion?

_Fuck. _Swan.

Emma had been like this for days. Since she had watched the life drain out of Neal as he lay in her arms and had to explain to her son why he had lost a father he had never met. His funeral had been a painful endeavour, and Hook had stood by her side as she stared stoically at Neal's coffin, with only a single tear escaping her control. Him, along with Mary Margaret and David had been waiting for her to break, but the town was in crisis and saviours don't cry, apparently.

Now, the space between them is infinite and yet he can feel the beige wallpaper closing in around him. He tries to imagine this door closing on him for the last time, as he's forced to watch her drive out of his life once more. Losing her? Again? Three hundred years hadn't prepared him for that kind of anguish.

She smiles impassively and shuts the door and suddenly the hallway seems exponentially long, like walking through it without her -again- would mean his demise. He leans against her door and in an instant it hits him that he can't walk away, not with everything that's hanging between them like shards of ice hanging at the top of a melting cave, threatening to drip at any moment.

He knocks softly and she's there as if she never left. Like in one of those ridiculous modern day movies where the heroine leans against the door for a time after her hero leaves her.

"What can I do, Swan?" he's begging her now. He's a selfish arse and he knows it.

Emma's eyes are burning holes into him and he can feel frustration radiation from her. He isn't sure if it emanates from wanting to be near him or wanting him to leave, but he presses the issue.

"Nothing, Killian…", and her voice is so helpless he almost believes her. Until she won't meet his eyes. Because as much as she wants to protect her son from everything and anything bad that happens in this town, she has been protecting herself for far, far too long. And much too well.

Stepping closer to her now, he slides his good hand past her waist and closes the door softly behind her, so it's just the two of them alone in the hallway. It's a hideous hallway but Hook never noticed, at least not until all his senses became heightened with Emma Swan standing mere inches from him. The atmosphere changes abruptly now that they're alone and Hook can feel Emma's skin burning from where she is standing.

He exercises restraint and puts his hand back by his side.

"I don't believe you. So I'll ask you again, love. What can I do to make you stay?" he's whispering now, and while any normal woman would be helpless to his charms, he knows Emma isn't. Yet despite her guarded stance, he notices her eyes dart to his lips and she looks away quickly.

Then, as if making a decision, she wraps her slender fingers around his forearm and leans forward to close the distance between them. Nothing like their last kiss, which was all fire and wanton need, this kiss is gentle and almost chaste. Pressing her lips lightly against his, Emma breaks into a smile and deepens the kiss, like kissing him is the solution to her sadness, her problems.

"Just ask me.." she whispers, sending shivers down his spine.

And he's lost to her.


End file.
